Some people’s lives seem neat and crisp around the edges, like a bed made according to military regulation. I grew up with a father in uniform; and when I looked out through my child-eyes, I saw stripes and squared shoulders, sharp creases and ninety-degree angles.

My mind tried to make sense of an ordered and cornered world. I thought life was lines and rules, all things defined, straight lips on strong jaws, clenched and smiling and sure of themselves.

Until I finally discovered that I was a fish, swimming in a world with no edges, a world of infinite ripples and currents. I’m still learning to be in my medium, dancing the rivers inside and around me, listening to the sounds of the whales and the sea grass and the constant stream of creation.

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